


stardust.

by eoghainy



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, M/M, original character works, resident evil oc's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-04 21:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11563761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eoghainy/pseuds/eoghainy
Summary: idk man ,, my friend convinced me to make matching oc's & now we have two tragic boi's who survived raccoon together and deserve so much better





	1. again.

**Author's Note:**

> idk man ,, my friend convinced me to make matching oc's & now we have two tragic boi's who survived raccoon together and deserve so much better

“I don’t believe you.” His voice is firm, lips moving to be pressed into a fine line. “Say it again.”

“It was all fake.” Hayden’s voice is simple, words coming out smoothly. “All of it. Every little thing was absolutely _fake_.”

“Say it again.” Brysen is pushing his limits, he knows. He watches with an arched eyebrow as Hayden takes a step forward.

“Fake. It was all fake.”

“Again.”

Another step.

“I used you. I _never_ loved you.” Hayden was so close that Brysen could feel his breath upon his lips. His hands twitched at his sides, but he refrained from touching him. Hayden was dangerous, so dangerous that sometimes it scared him, but this was still Hayden. Hayden, who loved without boundaries and never lied to Brysen’s face like this. Hayden, who trusted him, despite everything he had gone through. Hayden, who was so genuine somethings that it was _blinding_.

“Once more.” His heart is beating so fast in his chest that he feels as if he can’t breathe. “Just once more.”

Hayden doesn’t dignify himself with a response. With practiced ease, he’s backing Brysen up against a wall, using his height and his greater strength to his advantage. They’re kissing, hard and passionate, Hayden’s hands cupping Brysen’s jaw so tightly that he thought he was going to bruise. It’s painful, almost unbearably so, but it’s so warm and _familiar_ that Brysen’s body responds without fail.

“I don’t,” he’s sneaking in words between kisses, “love you,” another kiss. “I never did.” This kiss is harder than the last, more assertive, more desperate. “You’ve just been,” with each passing moment he’s getting more and more desperate, “a _toy_.”

Brysen groans, his lips already feeling bruised. “So you keep saying.” His words are rushed, barely able to get them out before Hayden is covering them again. His sudden desperation screams that he’s planning something, something dangerous and something awful, so he’s using cruelty to make the backlash hurt less.

Its not working. It has never worked.

So he just stays here, pinned to the wall, relishing in the affection he’s been denied since Hayden’s absence. 


	2. truth or drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i watched a truth or drink vid from watchcut & i had to do a thing

The cameras and the lights were a bit too much. He had willingly signed up for a game of _Truth or Drink_ for Brysen’s sake, but to be quite honest, he wasn’t happy with the situation. The questions were hard to answer and he had taken too many drinks in favor of giving a hurtful truth.

This game was fun.

Brysen, though, was determined to carry on. He picked up the next card, reading it over before laughing. “Okay: I dare you to kiss me.”

Blanking, Hayden frowned. “It does _not_ say that.”

The other man proved him wrong, handing the card over. “It’s not a truth, but, I’m not complaining.”

Oh, Hayden was an asshole. He laughed, staying in his seat as he reached across the table to pour himself a shot.

“You _asshole_ ,” Brysen smacked at his arm, looking thoroughly offended. Whoops.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” He poured it, leaving it in front of the bottles with the other empty shot glass. “I was just kidding. I’m always up for kissing you.”

He leaned across the table, his hand finding’s familiar spot upon Brysen’s jaw. Brysen let his head tilt upwards, not fighting Hayden as he pressed their lips together in a soft kiss that quickly became intense. His tongue didn’t even need to brush against the crease of the others lips before they were parting willingly for him, their tongues sliding together.

They seemed to share the same thoughts as they both pressed closer together, Hayden’s hips flush against the table and Brysen leaning up as far as he could to lessen the strain upon Hayden. The others hands were twisting amongst his long hair, keeping him close even when he had to pull away to take a quick breath.

“There . . .” Hayden panted, completely out of breath. “There’s your kiss.”

Brysen was flushed, and his lips were shiny, but he didn’t look happy. Great. This was gonna come back and bit him in the ass once this was all over.


	3. unofficial meets.

The first time they meet is in the police station. Of course, neither knows the others name. It’s a circumstantial happenstance, something that came to be simply because a sixteen year old thief got caught stealing some medication from the local pharmacy.

“Been here since the other day.” The arresting cop reports, looking up from his cup of coffee. “We’ve got nothin’ to hold him here. No name, no date of birth, no records — nothin’. He won’t give us shit about himself. All we know about his ass is that he’s homeless, and he’s never been seen around here before. Wasn’t born here, hasn’t lived here for long. He’s like a ghost.”

“Is there a case file?” Brysen asked, looking over at their pathetic holding cell with quirked brows. There was a huddled figure on the uncomfortable bench, head tucked upon his kneecaps and arms wrapped tight around his shins.

“Yeah. Here, take it. I don’t need it.” The officer hands Brysen a thin file, and Brysen thanks him, heading off to his desk with a frown.

Inside of the folder was a consistent string of reports and felonies. The felonies seemed to include prostitution, illegal possession of drugs, theft, public intoxication, public indecency, public displays of violence. Yet, they couldn’t book him on anything _because_ he was like a damn ghost. They couldn’t send him anywhere without identification first, or contacting his parents.

Damn.

“He knows we can’t hold him.” The other officer came over to Brysen’s desk, his voice lowered. “He’s waiting out the sentence until he can go back onto the streets. We’ll have him back in here in a few days’ time, but we won’t have anything _solid_. I swear, I’m gonna end up shootin’ this kid just to get him off our hands.”

“That’s committing a felony, you know.” Brysen sighed, closing the file. “Just keep racking the charges up against him. Something will stick, or someone will identify him.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not here to deal with the fuck.” The other man groaned, stretching. “Oh well. Doesn’t matter. We’ll just have to keep doing so, like you said.”

Brysen offered the man a half - smile, getting to his feet almost restlessly. The tension in the office was thick, and though it made Brysen uncomfortable, he had other things to do. Work to catch up on. He makes his way past the cell, jumping in surprise when a grungy hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist, pulling him in against the bars.

“Let me —” He began, but the look in the kids eyes rendered him silent.

His eyes, so intense and so sharp, studied Brysen’s face before his grip slackened. He took his wrist back, feeling . . . he didn’t know how he felt. The kid, though, startled him enough to move on.

He’d give anything just to send this poor thing to juvy and be done with it.


End file.
